.


.

Part III: Star-Killer

.


"I was about to end that Jedi once and for all."

The hologram of the Emperor barely flinched at the knowledge. "I don't care. She is one Jedi. You can let the Inquisitors deal with her. I'm sure the Grand Inquisitor will embrace the task eagerly."

Sergei. "He knew Nazyalensky before the Purges. He would've known Zenik when she was a child. He would be-"

"Attached?" The corner of Morozova's mouth quirked upwards, and for a moment Koroleva was glad that the holograms were in blue. He'd demanded she take her helmet off for this discussion, and the colour would at least disguise in part the way her cheeks flushed at the mocking way in which he said the word. "I know he is. That's why he embraced the Dark Side so quickly, wasn't it? You killed the woman he secretly loved with all his pathetic little heart, and he hated you so much that he became a slave to his own passions. All his friends think him dead, but he became a slave to the Dark Side, and therefore, to me."

Once upon a time, he would've said "us". But he no longer consider them a team.

You are no longer entitled to your previous autonomy, your previous power; now, you are an extension of my will.

"The first Inquisitor: a Jedi killer." He sat back, and half of his face was shaded by his deep cowl. "His attachment brought him power, but he was controlled by it."

A cog in the machine of the Empire.

"His attachment will make it that much more painful for Zenik when he kills her. And, my spies report that she helped destroy the Death Star." He bared his teeth; the light caught them, like the glint of an unsheathed dagger. "I want it to hurt."

"It would've hurt there and then," Koroleva snapped. Her knee ached from kneeling on it for too long. "I killed her padawan. She died knowing she'd failed to protect him, just as her master failed to protect her."

"Then let her drown in her sorrow," Morozova dismissed. "Her attachment will be her undoing - just as it was yours, and the Grand Inquisitor's - my apologies, Sergei's." There was a wicked twist to his mouth as he said that; she just stood, stoic. "Just as it was the entire Jedi Order's."

"Then why did you order my forces to retreat?" She almost shouted the words, but knew that it wouldn't help anything.

He didn't answer: just looked at her for a moment. Then it hit her.

"It was a test."

She snarled the word, wild and feral.

"I wanted to see how well you suited your new position of following orders," he said impassively. "Even when every last one of your passions is chafing at the bit to do otherwise. You passed with flying colours." His grin was a little feral, too. "You are not a servant to your passions. You are a servant to me."

The way he looked at her. . .

Alina couldn't tell if the floor was beneath her knee or her feet, if she was kneeling or standing. The image her eyes gave her was superimposed by another: a clean, white room in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant instead of the dark one on her flagship. A room in which the large blue head of the Emperor was unwelcome, but not his expression. No, his expression - one of distinct disappointment and judgement - was shared by all the other occupants of the room, seated in chairs all around her like they were thrones, the cityscape of the planet laid out beyond the windows behind them. Although she was taller than them, when they were seated, she never felt smaller than she did in their presence.

And in the middle of those Jedi Masters, among the medley of different species, the oldest and wisest of them all. . .

"You know," she began, hating the way her voice broke, "the Jedi Council used to test me as well. Especially Grandmaster Baghra." They'd never trusted her, despite believing her to be the prophesised 'Chosen One'. They hadn't liked her tendency toward attachment.

The Emperor had gone completely still. "Do not compare me to that woman."

His mother. The Grandmaster of the Order, the greatest Jedi who ever lived, who cast the longest shadow of all. Which was no doubt the reason, Koroleva had theorised, that little Aleksander had left the shelter of the temple and searched for something more. More strength, more fame.

More power.

He'd found it, and found he didn't like the loneliness it brought with it.

"Really," she drawled, before she could think. The vocoder made it sound much more deadpan than she could have ever achieved alone. "Because from my position," on her knee, on the ground, being judged, subservient, "I see no difference."

Grandmaster Baghra. Her master, the Emperor. Master, master, master.

She was sick of it.

If it hadn't been such a shithole, she might have missed Jakku, the freedom she'd had there.

Morozova's face contorted into a snarl and he lifted his hand; she flinched reflexively. His favourite punishment was, of course, to shoot violet Force Lightning out of his hands and hit her, until her nerves were on fire and her cells were fried and she was being cooked from the inside out. . .

But he could only do that in person. This was a holocall. She was safe, for now.

He lowered his hand. "We will continue this discussion at a later date." His voice was a whiplash; she could hear the darkness coiling around every syllable, the anger, searching for someone to punish. "I have already dispatched my Hand to deal with the Jedi and her friends - the Wraith in particular. She's an annoyance I'd like to see the end of. In the meantime, do not fail me again." He set his jaw and glowered. "Or there will be consequences."

In the moments before the call disconnected, despite the blue-tinted hologram, she could've sworn his eyes glowed yellow.


The holo she was holding was scuffed with age, the grainy quality a mark of how long ago it was taken. But Inej didn't need fantastic detail to make out the three figures: a father and his two sons, one barely out of his toddler years. Nor did she need colour to see the dark eyes and hair, the naturally milk-white skin long since tanned by the merciless suns, the harsh bone structure that Kaz still sported even today.

We'll save you, she promised. Soon, we'll get you out of there.

Then she switched it off and tucked the holo into the pocket of her jacket. She might've felt an ounce of guilt for stealing a holo she'd randomly found in a drawer upon arrival, but she needed the support it offered.

She needed a reminder of what she was here for.

Inej had always hated Tatooine. She'd hated it whenever her parents had visited as a child, she'd hated it when she'd been forced to. . . work. . . there, and she'd hated it when she'd had to visit it to track down Kaz all those months ago. It was too hot, with too much sand, and too little hope.

At least this homestead only has two of those things, she mused, glancing around. They'd set up camp in the abandoned farmer's homestead Kaz always used as a smuggling base - "a home away from the Barrel", as Jesper had dubbed it - where he'd left the Barrel when he went to negotiate with Pekka, and while it was plenty hot, with plenty of sand, there was also an abundance of hope present.

One that was quickly dwindling, however.

"Are you sure there's no back door we can sneak in?" Nina asked Jesper again, gesturing to the map crudely drawn into the sand on the floor, as if they hadn't had this conversation three times already in the past hour.

Jesper just huffed, and repeated what he'd said all the other times before: "No. There's only one way in or out, and it's a metre-thick durasteel door which is opened from the inside. The passage you have to walk down after you get through that door is patrolled by Gamorrean guards." His tone was brittle; both he and Nina seemed exponentially more on edge than usual. "Only then can you get into the throne room, which, by the way, is also filled with guards and bounty hunters."

"The guards aren't any problem," Nina said darkly, flexing the fingers of her right hand. Inej suddenly had a disturbing, violent image of her friend closing those fingers around someone's throat, except not - her fingers closed around thin air, far away from her victim's delicate neck, but they choked anyway. "Nor are bounty hunters. But that door might be." She tapped the symbol on the rough schematics that represented it. "How are we going to get Pekka to let us in?"

Silence fell in the homestead, until Inej could hear the shifting of the desert dunes outside. It was shady and cool inside the structure, but the sand still permeated her clothes, scratched at her skin. Sweat beaded on her brow and her lips and she found herself, by habit, growing very, very still.

Images flashed by: images of a darkness that was more than a lack of light and a heat that was more than the heat of the sun and she instinctively tried to push them away, tried to not be here, to not be on this planet of all places, the planet where everything happened-

So that's why I'm so eerily calm about this whole situation, Inej observed, ironically enough, in a very detached manner. I'm dissociating.

Because if she didn't, she wouldn't be able to think of Kaz, would only think of-

Of-

That.

"Nina's right," Wylan said into the silence. Inej suspected it was only to make sure something was said, but she was grateful for it anyway as she turned away from the corner to kneel next to Nina on the floor. "There's no way we're getting through that door."

"Surely Inej could do it," Matthias said, turning his hopeful eyes on her. She wanted to cringe. She had the funny feeling that after the capability she'd shown at Concord Dawn and on Hoth he'd started to overestimate her capability in situations she was more. . . personally. . . attached to.

Like this one.

"You're the Wraith! Surely you could sneak in and let Kaz out."

"I. . ." She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. What could she say, anyway? That the darkness of that palace featured in her nightmares? That it represented a time when she'd needed to be rescued, herself?

When she hadn't been the Wraith, but just a scared teenage girl?

She opened her mouth again to explain, to say that she couldn't do it, that there was no chance in Hell that she was going back in there-

Nina's hand clasped her own and squeezed it. "Inej and Kaz used to work for Pekka, remember? They'd recognise her. For all we know, that slug's gone and put a bounty on her, too."

All the breath left Inej's body at once and she lowered her head to hide the tear tracks on her cheeks. Everyone had conceded the point and moved on now, their attention diverted to the map on the floor, but Nina squeezed her hand again. Inej squeezed back.

She'd mainly managed to get the trembling in her shoulders under control by the time Matthias said, "Speaking of bounties, wasn't Jesper already working for Kaz when he dumped that shipment?" He looked up at the smuggler in question, eyes narrowed. "How do we know you've not got a bounty on you, as well?"

"He has." There was a strange tone to Wylan's voice; Inej, eyes still rimmed with red, glanced up at him. It sounded suspiciously like hope. "Jesper's more and more likely to get snapped up by a bounty hunter the longer he stays on this planet. But we can use that to our advantage."

He met Inej's gaze, eyes wide and full of fervour. It hit her suddenly that she was still the de facto leader of their little band of Rebels - she'd been the one to assemble it, all those months ago, and she was still the one they looked to for guidance.

So she leaned forward, head cocked with interest. "I'm listening."


"Which bounty hunter are we taking out?" Nina whispered, crouching onto the rooftop beside her friend. She didn't know how Inej did this everyday: she'd had to use several Force-powered jumps just to get up this far, let alone keep her balance, and as much as a believer Inej was, she did not have that blessing going for her.

Inej kept her frame ducked low as she pointed across the street, at a cantina directly across from them. "There. Oomen."

Nina lifted her pair of macrobinoculars and peered through them. She could make out one of the patrons of the cantina near the door: skinny, slight and sinister. "That's Oomen?" She felt more than saw the grimness to Inej's face as she nodded; her friend tensed up next to her, knuckles white as she clutched the blaster at her waist. "He doesn't look like much."

"No, he doesn't," Inej agreed. "But he's tougher than he looks. Might even give me a run for my money."

Nina frowned as she surveyed him through the macrobinoculars. "He's too thin, I'll never fit into his armour. His helmet, maybe, but. . . Why target him?"

She felt Inej tense against her even more. Hardly daring to breathe, Nina probed her gently through the Force and almost physically recoiled at the amount of hate that was suddenly pent up inside her friend, waiting for an outlet.

"Because," Inej said through gritted teeth, "he's the one who drove Kaz into walking right into Pekka's waiting grasp."

"Oh." Nina took a deep breath, but that angered her as well - less because of a protectiveness for Kaz, and more over one for Inej. This man was the reason Kaz had left? Oomen was why Inej was now alone? He had been the one who meant she had to come back to Tatooine, a planet she clearly hated?

He'd forced Inej to remember experiencing something Nina didn't know the horrors of, because her friend had been too traumatised to be able to tell her, he'd caused this whole debacle to start, he'd made Inej cry-

"Nina, stop!"

The words were hissed in her ear - no doubt Inej didn't want to risk them getting caught, some distant part of her acknowledged - but they was washed way in the stream that flooded through her. She opened her eyes and her arm was out, her fingers and thumb curled so they weren't quite clenched in a fist, and Oomen-

Oomen was choking.

Oomen had fallen to the floor of the cantina, grasping at his throat, choking, and Inej's was next to her, pleading, scrabbling at her arm, and the terror-

It wasn't Oomen's terror that dragged her out of it.

It was Inej's.

And when she dropped her hand, allowing Oomen to drop to the floor, winded and bruised but alive, she looked at her friend.

Her friend, who had never looked at her that way before.

Who had never been scared of her before.

"Inej," Nina whispered, "I-" I'm sorry I didn't mean to I swear I didn't mean to don't look like that please I can't bear it-

Inej's hand brushed over her cheek - the cheek where the three sparks had scarred her during her duel with Koroleva, like tear drops. And then there were arms around her, and Inej was hugging her tightly. "Nina," she whispered. "Killing him won't bring Kuwei back."

Nina suppressed a flinch, and said in a shaky voice, "Nor will it free Kaz."

They looked at each other, and Nina's cheeks burned with tears as she watched those same tears stain Inej's own cheeks. She shuddered, and choked out, "I- I can't-"

Inej squeezed her tighter. "I know." Her words were just as hoarse. "Force, Nina, I know."

On the ground, Oomen had recovered. Nina hoped he assumed there'd been something in his drink, that it was cramps, and sure enough he didn't glance up at them, sitting like shadowy gargoyles on the rooftops.

It wasn't like he would think to, anyway.

It wasn't thought to be possible to choke someone without touching them, was it?

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I- I failed him. I won't fail you."

Inej's voice was close to her ear; her breath tickled to side of her face. "You never have, Nina." Nina closed her eyes, breathing out slowly. "And you never will." She sat back a little, just far enough for them to make eye contact. "Now, let's go take out a more convenient bounty hunter, shall we?"

Nina laughed, even as she swiped at the tears leaking down her face. Inej gracefully clambered to her feet and she followed suit, ready to jump to the next rooftop, to actually achieve the aims of this assignment.

Getting Kaz out of that hellhole was the first step to making all of this shit better, anyway.